Guarding Harry
by HikariSelene
Summary: No pairings Severus is injured and thrown uncaringly into the woods of Surrey where he is found and healed by a sevenyearold Harry Potter. What would life have been like if Harry had grown up under the influence of a snarky Severus Snape?
1. Chapter 1

I've never truly read a fanfiction before, however I enjoy writing stories.

Summary-No pairings Severus is injured and thrown uncaringly into the woods of Surrey where he is found and healed by a seven-year-old Harry Potter. What would life have been like if Harry had grown up under the influence of Severus Snape?

Disclaimer- I do not claim any rights to Harry Potter nor am I gaining money from this fanfiction.

Guarding Harry

Prologue

The warm glow of the suns brilliant light filtered into the clearing peaking promiscuously through the leaves of the trees and splayed purposely down on the pale face of a certain dark haired man. The man seemed out of place in the forest clearing, bloodied and beaten. He seemed broken, not only in body but in spirit as well. His long dark hair was matted in the spills of blood, and his eyes swollen shut. Dried cuts littered his body like a garbage dump, and a foul odor, that would need a weeks worth of washing to get rid of resided around him.

All this was being observed by the curious emerald eyes of a small child. The boy hadn't meant to stare, and he knew he was wrong for it as well; his aunt always said not to stare at people to long, but this man looked too awful for the boy not to stare.

The boy stepped farther into the clearly as he had been standing at the edge of the trees surrounding the area before. Cautiously he crept forward trying his best not to make a sound, something a boy his age should not be able to achieve, or even thought of achieving. Under the circumstances, however, he did a fare job of it. Considering the fact that he had worked and strived to walk around these woods soundlessly everyday, in order to escape his cousin and his cousin's friends when they initiated the worst game (and only) he had ever player. Harry Hunting.

He continued forward until he was two steps away from the man. Most children his age would be too frightened by the blood and the foul smell to come this close to a stranger stranded and injured in the woods. But Harry couldn't leave the body here, nor could he run off and tell his family, for they would surely think he had a play in the man's injuries.

Harry watched the body intently looking for any sign of life. Harry was a bright child, and had suffered enough bruising from his Uncle to know the extent of this mans injuries could easily result in death. He hoped the man was alive though, but the man's chest did not rise or fall; neither did it look like he was struggling to breath. Harry felt his shoulder shaking, his breath coming in gasps. What if the man was dead? What could he do? Would his aunt smack him around again if he tried to talk to her? Would his uncle belt him across the face this time for finding something 'freak like?'

'Grhhhhmmm.'

Harry jumped as he heard the soft grunting that left the thin lips of the man. He wasn't dead! How could he be? A dead man doesn't grunt. At least, Harry didn't think they did. After all he was only seven, how many dead men could he have seen?

Harry almost whimpered in happiness. The man was alive! But he held in his gratitude and excitement. The man was still hurt, and unless Harry wanted to be faced with the man actually dieing this time, he would have to do something about the injuries himself. And he felt him self coming to a loss, what could a seven year old do for a man, who looked like he was on the brink of death?

Harry racked his eyes over the damaged body. He had to stop to wonder what could have been capable of the damages inflicted on this man's body. Harry could honestly say, as he trailed his emerald colored eyes calculatingly over the large slash on the man's upper stomach, that he had scars on his scars. No amount of beating from his Uncle could ever amount up to the wounds the stranger bore. Though Harry was sure he'd come close a few times.

Slowly incase the man was still conscious and able to move Harry knelt down and leaned a little closer. His shoulders remained rigid and his muscles strained. He was ready to bolt at the first sign of danger, and would not hesitate to do so. Harry wasn't stupid. He knew quite well how foolish he was being. Trying to help an injured stranger that could be a killer for all he knew. But his compassion would not let him go.

Harry scanned the body looking for any flesh wounds, those he knew he could heal. Those were simple. It was the internal and private wounds that worried him. He was sure the man would no enjoy being harassed by a seven year old as they checked his more private areas for any damage. He felt embarrassed just thinking about it.

Harry leaned forward on his hands and knees trying to look at the bruising of the pale face with close scrutiny. There was a small red mark that stood out angrily on the man's left cheek. He leaned closer to get a better look at it. Perhaps to see if he would need some stronger disinfectant, and almost had an early heat attack when coal black eyes shot open. He gasped and fell ungracefully backwards onto his butt, His Elbows dug into the dirt as he used them to quickly scramble backward, doing a rather awkward crabwalk.

Harry was sure the man would shoot up from his incapacitated spot on the cold hard ground. Oddly enough the man did not shoot up and murder him. And yes, Harry admitted, his imagination got away from him for a while. He was sure that as he trailed his own pale fingers over the scars on the man's face, he for a frightening second saw coal black eyes flash open and stare directly into his own. But when he looked back at the scared face, the strangers eyes were closed and covered by wispy strands of dark hair. Harry just played it of as his fear taking over him.

A/N: This is in fact my first fanfiction. I only wrote it cause a friend said I should write fanfiction when i'm bored.


	2. Chapter 2

Summary- No Pairings Severus is injured and thrown uncaringly into the woods of Surrey where he is found and healed by a seven-year-old Harry Potter. What would life have been like if Harry had grown up under the influence of Severus Snape?

Disclaimer- I do not claim any rights to Harry Potter nor am I gaining money from this fanfiction.

Guarding Harry

Chapter one- Watcher

"Boy!" A maddeningly high pitched voice screeched through wooden doors of a small gloomy cupboard.

Harry could feel himself flinch as his daily alarm clock woke him, or rather a horrible call of a wild monkey.

He had been having the oddest dream about a flying motorcycles and flashing green lights. A reoccurring dream, one he had several times in the past, and always woke up at the same time every morning, to his aunt's crow-like voice. It had confused him at first, why should he have this dream over and over? He had made the mistake of asking his aunt once. His answer had been a beating from his uncle, and screams about flying motorcycles being ridiculous. It hadn't taken Harry very long to surmise that any mention of the unordinary in the Dursley's perfectly ordinary little world, would be much unappreciated.

"Boy." He aunt said, addressing him through the door. "Up! Get up, you ruddy good for nothing piece of garbage. You're so lazy."

Harry rolled over opening his eyes. Not that it would make much of a difference. The room in which he slept was completely black with no lighting to see by anyway.

"I'm up. I'm up." He told his aunt, grumbling under his breath as he searched the floor for a pair of socks to put on.

He slowly exited his cupboard, not wanting to speed up the routinely chores he was sure he would have to do, and sure enough the minute he entered the kitchen his aunt handed over a large black sizzling eggs and began to prattle on.

"You'll be making breakfast first boy, then I expect you to have the yard completely weeded by five this after noon."

Harry anxiously trudged outside, not intending to weed much at all. For the past week he had been glad when his aunt assigned the task of gardening. He would act huffy and angry, even though he wasn't. Then he would wait for her too stop peering with her narrowed green eyes though the window and hurry out the back gate towards the forest, fingering a piece of toast he managed to sneak away from his pudgy cousin's breakfast plate.

Harry darted through the trees and bushes as he raced to 'Haven.' Haven was what Harry had called the clearing in which he had found the mysterious dark stranger a week prior.

The clearing was beautiful at this time of day, filled with the droplets of dew. The fresh morning light coasted along the leaves and the lush green of the scenery added to the feel. To Harry the woods seemed to hold a magical presence.

The stranger lay sprawled where Harry had seen him for the first time, a week ago, unmoved and still. Over the course of the week, Harry had felt his fear of the man wane slightly until it was nonexistent. As time went on he grew fond of the unconscious man's company. Harry would sit for hours dragging a warm cloth over the man's body cleaning him as best he could from the dried blood plastered to his body. Sneaking cloths and buckets of warm water out of the house had been a problem. He had almost gotten caught a few times actually. The closest, when his aunt had asked him why he was carrying buckets out to the front yard three days ago. Thinking quick on his feet, Harry told his aunt he planned to wash the fence down. Of course he had been stuck washing it as well, because his aunt kept shooting suspicious glances out the window at him to make sure he did.

Today Harry hadn't brought a cloth with him, he hadn't felt the need to laden him self, the man was more than relatively clean right now, well in all the places Harry was willing to travel anyway.

With nothing to do but stare at the stranger Harry began one of his odd conversations. Odd because they were always one sided. The man wasn't about to just answer back. He would blather on for hours about his family and the horrible way they treated him, about school, and his lack of friends, life. It was fun having someone to talk to who wasn't going to mock him later on.

Harry toyed with the idea that the man could actually hear him sometimes. Maybe somewhere lost in his subconscious was an understanding grown-up. There weren't enough of them.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, "But I have to leave it's getting late."

He quickly rose from his kneeling position and exited the forest in a brisk walk. He wanted to arrive home before his uncle, maybe then he could escape a nightly beatings and scurry into bed.

He never saw the man open his confused dark eyes.

Number four privet Drive was unusually quiet as the dark haired boy snuck in through the back door. The lights were off and Harry could hear the loud snoring floating down to him from upstairs. Thinking he was safe, as it was only seven (his uncle didn't get home until eight), and that his aunt had gone to be early, he let the tension in his body drift away. Then he heard it, the jingle of car keys from behind him.

"You were out late boy. What have you been up too?" Asked a gruff voice.

Harry felt the tension return to him.

A/N: Wow that was shorter than I intended, but I figure that the shorter the chapter the faster I can dish them out. Sorry if you were expecting something longer. I'm hoping to be able to get a chapter out a week, or if I have time every three days.


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